


multitudes

by hasnuhana (shondhamaloti)



Category: Naruto
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Study, Epistolary, M/M, implied suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shondhamaloti/pseuds/hasnuhana
Summary: Hashirama posts a letter to Madara, who is deployed as an envoy to the nascent Iwagakure. It takes Madara five tries before he can send a reply.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	multitudes

**Author's Note:**

> there may be some upsetting content expressed in these letters, so please note the warning in the tag. additionally, to cover my bases — the opinions expressed by the characters in this fic don't necessarily reflect my own.
> 
> as a guide, the seven parts to this fic, from first to last respectively, are: hashirama's letter to madara; five drafts madara attempts to write in response (staggered over the period of about a week); and the edited version he ultimately choses to send as a reply.
> 
> happy reading!

**hokage’s office. hour of the rat.**

_My Friend,_

_I pray Kagutsuchi finds you well. Forgive me for taking the liberty of sending her — at the rate at which things are progressing with Kumo and Uzushio, the aviary can spare no birds. Rest assured any remonstrations you may have were thoroughly made known by Kagutsuchi herself. I am continually awed by the fierce loyalty your birds have for you — fierce and exclusive, as the gashes I’ve earned from Kagutsuchi can attest. It's unlike anything I've seen between man and beast. They take after you. Perhaps you can help us get better acquainted with each other when you return._

_If I estimate correctly, you should have crossed into the western border by now. How are you finding the Land of Earth? I have heard tales of the famous rock rain that scatters from the mountaintops down to the prairies south. Did you encounter any of it yourself? What a spectacular phenomenon it must be! I know you haven’t the time for sightseeing, but I hope you will tell me of the things that have held your attention from those stone peaks. They must be so different to the greenwood hilltops that gird our own village — though not too different, I am sure, for one as at home with the terrain as yourself!_

_As you will have yet to reach Iwa, I won’t pester you with questions on the objective. Instead I hope you will humour me in my moment of weakness. Yes, I know — it was I who insisted this is no time for weakness. Take this as your victory: even now with everyone on the same page there are some things — the heaviest of things — that I can confide only to you, and I sorely miss it when you are away. It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? Though the two of us may be miles apart — perhaps, I sometimes fear, tomes apart — this remains a constant._

_The village welcomed a clan from Kiri yesterday. I was there to receive them personally, and can tell you it was a clan in name alone — a straggling and malnourished encampment of young men and women with their unweaned children; perhaps two dozen heads in all, whom it became apparent sought not an alliance but refuge. They claim to be from among the lowest caste in Kiri, forced to take on the most perilous missions. All but these escapees have purportedly been culled through the rite that certifies them for dispatch — some sort of battle royal — or otherwise perished on the job. I have seen what the men and women of this clan are capable of, my friend. Theirs is an ability that could cripple armies, and Kiri has guarded it jealously. I can’t understand how such a people could have been brought to heel like this. Can you imagine — a unified village, a confederation between brothers-in-arms, founded on such terms? I don’t know what to believe._

_I know what you would tell me if you were here. You will hate to hear it, but I have been advised along similar lines by my brother already. Naturally I haven’t discounted the possibility that they have been planted here to exploit my sympathy, but that is not what troubles me. If the story is true, I find myself wondering, what does this bode for any future diplomacy with Kiri? Shall we ally ourselves with a village that runs its army on servitude? Stratifying men into degrees of humanity — children who have only ever known the blood of the womb, born as lesser humans! Their blood would be on my hands._

_And I find myself wondering, also, in morbid hours as now — what gives these people the confidence to seek aid here? Who is to say they will not meet a similar fate with us, if not within their generation, then that of their children? It occurs to me that we haven’t any clauses on the delegation of labour in our constitution, nor any measures for curbing hegemony. I hadn’t even considered the need for it, because I hadn’t thought we had united on such terms as would warrant it. Is there a need? There shouldn’t be. I want to trust in the spirit of our alliance. But these Kiri folk may have allied with their tormentors trusting in the same spirit, and it has not safeguarded them. Are there people among us who may one day defect under comparable circumstances, and seek refuge elsewhere? I am not as naive as you like to think; I know that respite long sought-after dulls the senses. Those who only yield to peace against overwhelming odds are the most shortchanged. Perhaps that is the concession they must make, for entering the fold when they do._

_Stop talking around the point — that’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it? Then I shall. My friend, that fateful day on the rocky acres that span between our forests and your alps, with the sanguine sun as our recordkeeper, you said you would trust my clan if I showed you my innards. I don’t think I ever got to see yours. I don’t need to — your words are the greatest gift to me. So I ask you — are those words still true? Do you still trust my clan with yours? Will you trust my clan with yours when I am gone?_

_Now you will accuse me of questioning your allegiance. I swear to you I am not. Whatever others may imply, you are a father to our village in your own right, and your loyalty is not my entitlement. I am asking if you have faith in mine: to our village, to our people, to our dream. Is your faith still mine to keep?_

_Forgive me — this is hardly something you can answer in person, barefaced as it is; much less on parchment. But I must ask it through writing — I do not have the courage to pursue the matter in person either. Surely it would distort the careful bearings we've picked around each other. Without proper anchoring we cannot afford further turbulence. Things will be better between us this way._

_I do not expect you to respond, though I would welcome it. As I sit at my desk tonight drawing up blueprints for a new housing complex — and I have the warmth of a fireplace and woolen cushions and a shawl, and they have rags and moth-eaten bedding and the frosted hardwood planks of a training hall — I think of their haunted eyes, so lightless you could mistake them for the Hyuga, and the way they cannot hide the proud tilt of their chins even as they submit themselves to our mercy, and I am reminded of those who surrendered during the war, and — I feel as though nothing matters more than that you know this. I am seized by the urgency of it; it cannot wait until your return — it would lose its momentum by then, or I would discard it as a negligible bout of anxiety, or the right moment would never find us — I need you to know now: I think of this._

_You must be travel-weary and heavy-boned as you read my letter. There must be dirt clotted between your toes, gravel and bramble pricking your heels. And your hair, goodness, I shudder to think of what it’s accreted into with all the debris on the road. Are you surprised to hear from me? I know how imprudent it is to unleash these musings on you when you are already stretched so thin, and I hate to add to your strife. But I need you to know, so I set brush to parchment._

_I will be shameless again, and remind you to take care of your health. I am always looking forward to your speedy and triumphant return from these trips, but not if it will make you reckless. Send word when you've made contact at Iwa, won’t you? Tell me how you fare, what you think of the people and the prospects. Tell me your own musings; there will be words enough for official business when you present your report. I write in hopes that we can recover in ink what has been lost to us in speech. If possible, don't hold back — I will make time to read it all._

_— Flowers for you, from Hashirama._

* * *

**i. jinmenju limestone forest. hour of the ox.**

Hashirama —

 _I know what you would tell me if you were here. Naturally I haven’t discounted the possibility that they have been planted here to exploit my sympathy, but that is not what troubles me_. Remain vigilant. _If the story is true, I find myself wondering, what does this bode for any future diplomacy with Kiri?_ This is no time to dither. When you hesitate, the citizens take the fall. Consider your priorities, commit to the choice that will secure them, and strike like a spear in that direction. You are Mokuton Hashirama, protector of the village. Nothing can stand in your way once you are set on a path — so make your decision and live up to your name. _Shall we ally ourselves with a village that runs its army on servitude?_ It certainly sounds as though you already know the answer for yourself. _Stratifying men into degrees of humanity — children who have only ever known the blood of the womb, born as lesser humans! Their blood would be on my hands._ But what makes this any different? The blood of children is already on your hands through far fewer contortions of the mind. Will be. It is not as though lesser-born children were spared during the war. Even in this village established to nurture them, it is not as though lesser-born children will be spared if they revolt. Your compassion is not without merit, but your compunction is. 

_Forgive me — this is hardly something you can answer in person, barefaced as it is; much less on parchment._ It was patently unwise of you to write something like this while I am in the middle of a sensitive mission, and so ill-equipped to deal with it. _But I must ask it through writing — I do not have the courage to pursue the matter in person either. Surely it would distort the careful bearings we've picked around each other. Without proper anchoring we cannot afford further turbulence. Things will be better between us this way._ I don’t understand your abstruse ramblings. What bearings? What anchoring? What turbulence? If you have enough time in between engagements to hallucinate nautical adventures, spend some of it on sleep. Obviously you need it.

 _You must be travel-weary and heavy-boned as you read my letter._ I am weary, but that is the norm for me these days. 

_Send word when you've made contact at Iwa, won’t you? Tell me how you fare, what you think of the people and the prospects._ I’ve encountered several shinobi families travelling from the borderlands to Iwa for employment. Word on the wind is that this is the case in all four directions — a giant vortex of intrastate migration. The nobles have withdrawn patronage from unaffiliated guilds and are pouring investment into Iwa. The daimyo speaks of emulating and transcending the trend set by Konoha — it’s likely there has been some miscommunication. I fare as well as you must surmise. Will update you once I have assessed the situation in the village myself.

— Uchiha Madara.

* * *

**ii. lesser yatsukahagi mountain range. hour of the pig.**

> _They must be so different to the greenwood hilltops that gird our own village — though not too different, I am sure, for one as at home with the terrain as yourself!_

They are phenomenally different. The sun strikes iron-rich rock for hours and hours through the day, taking it through shades of pink, orange, brown. At sunset the farthest hilltops are gilded so hotly they glare, as though they are made of fire. Standing on one of these stone monoliths and staring at the skyline transports me somewhere light years beyond Konoha, beyond the continent — on some distant planet of blood-red craters and merciful solitude. But yes — some things are the same. A mountain is a mountain, excellent for the legs and the lungs. And hairy spiders the size of boulders are just as happy to make these their nesting grounds. 

> _Is your faith still mine to keep?_

What a mindless question. Is my faith yours to keep? Bumbling fool, what need have you for my faith, when you have that of all others around you? Where goes your unshakable self-confidence? For better or for worse, there is nothing I do without faith in you. I know better than to second-guess your commitment to the village or its people. It is in turns both a blessing and a curse. 

My mind is not always my own these days — more and more I find myself losing grasp of my temper, erupting with an ugly fury that only months ago I could contain. There is an inexplicable pressure that is building up in the spaces between my bones, and it blisters the underside of my flesh like steam and hungers to punish, to draw blood. There are cavities in the stream of my memory that nothing can bridge, whirlpools that churn real and unreal things into black matter. It is as though I am living on less time than everyone else. There must be some aperture in my head through which time and consciousness are steadily slipping away. 

> _Tell me your own musings; there will be words enough for official business when you present your report. If possible, don't hold back — I will make time to read it all._

I have never flattered myself with thinking I am entirely sane, but now I fear that I will return from a trip like this one day and let loose some irreversible havoc on the village, something so profoundly horrific that it will be beyond my control, and I will blink to at the last moment with the world as rubble at my feet, only to realise I have torn it asunder with my own two hands. It's a recurring fantasy — a prognostication, perhaps — and I have lost judgment over whether it is one that can be indulged. 

This is where that faith comes in. I have no illusions about my own potential. I am Uchiha Madara — _Mangekyo_ Madara. There is no deity who can smite me once I have chosen my course, no ocean that will not split for me, no king who will not bend to me — save, of course, for you. 

No sight is more hideous than one’s own weakness, yet how simple this is to admit! The idea that the strength that has made me the scourge of the continent — epithets of machiavel, of tyrant and kin-slayer, and I could name them for you, each and every one of my kin who have kindled this strength, but it would take a page and a half more — could be swatted away like a mosquito if you willed it should rankle at me. It does. 

> _I am asking if you have faith in mine: to our village, to our people, to our dream._

This is your curse. It is humiliating enough to make a man want to claw his own skin off. No — no, this is your blessing. It should make me want to claw my own skin off, but instead it delivers me. Between one night terror and the next, I take comfort in the knowledge that you will preserve something of me, of my legacy, when the madness takes me. You are the last one left to know me. I hope you will be the one to lock me away in history when it happens, twist the key into me to keep some softness within my carcass. I hope you will lay me down gently. I wish you would put me down gently on these frigid, terrorising nights. Is my faith still yours to keep? Your strength, your will of fire — all the reasons why you are where you are, as a measure against all the reasons why I am where I have come to be, I have faith in to the end of the line. Is that enough for you? 

No? It never seems to be, with your heavenward aspirations, your people-pleaser’s antics. But you’re good to me about it — I’ve never had anyone be better to me about everything I couldn’t give them. What makes you bother, I wonder? What do you see in me? Do you see it in me alone? _Is this for me alone_ , or is it an offshoot of your all-encompassing benevolence? Take it back, then; I don’t want it. I hate it, I hate it, it’s salt on the skin stripped off of me and it makes me feel smaller than a snail, it chafes worse than anything you can imagine, and you can’t imagine it and you never will because you are too immense to ever be diminished. No — no, leave it, I’ll keep it; it’s mine. You ask about our dream, but I am the wrong person to seek assurance from. I now see how hubristic it was all along, to think that any of it was ever up to me. How can I talk of dreaming for my clan, when my clan won’t claim me as their own? Relay your midnight musings to them; I am sure they will give you answers that foster sweet dreams. This faith was never mine to give.

> _Now you will accuse me of questioning your allegiance. I swear to you I am not. Whatever others may imply, you are a father to our village in your own right, and your loyalty is not my entitlement._

You do not need to console me with morsels from the past. In fact, if there is one thing our pasts have taught us, it is that siring a child does not a father make. Nor raising it, nor guiding it, nor loving it: nothing can make a man a father if he is not chosen by his child. Truth is written by the masses, and I know where I stand in it: my loyalty is no longer _anyone's_ entitlement. I suppose it is better to be no father than one who is a despot.

(But _is_ it? Is it so easy to cast fatherhood away? I remember what it did to Tajima when I disowned him. Fatherhood is not service alone; it is a claim. What of _my_ claim? 

What cruel irony this is! You see, now, what I mean about the fantasies. At least with tyranny things are for keeps.)

> _I write in hopes that we can recover in ink what has been lost to us in speech._

Hopeless fool, how doggedly you try to make illusory amends! Yet for all your caution you end up with your foot in your mouth, sure as the sunrise. _Now you will accuse_ this; _I know what you would say_ that. I can always rely on you for a good laugh. Things have not been lost between us. They are being withheld. You are withholding from me, and I from you, and we could weave together as many yards of parchment as we like and knot them around pretty baited hooks and sink the lines until we scrape the riverbed, but we will recover nothing. I say you know me, but how much of ourselves did we truly ever give to each other, anyway? There was always something undisclosed — names some times, sentiments others. This awful remoteness between us, like the repulsion between two north poles, is nothing new. It is only the growth that has spawned from our first secrets, propagating like fungus. It would take turning back the wheels of time, it would take you wearing my skin and walking around in it, for you to understand the things you want to hear. And I don’t think you can ever give me what I want from you. 

But if it will bring you peace of mind — why not? We’ll write. 

* * *

**iii** **. suikazura minshuku. hour of the rat.**

> _If I estimate correctly, you should have crossed into the western border by now. How are you finding the Land of Earth? I have heard tales of the famous rock rain that scatters from the mountaintops down to the prairies south. Did you encounter any of it yourself? What a spectacular phenomenon it must be! I know you haven’t the time for sightseeing, but I hope you will tell me of the things that have held your attention from those stone peaks._

All colours seem to burst like fireworks here, as though they are not quite real. I did not have enough time to traipse about mountaineering, so I cannot tell you what the view is like from the summits, but if the opportunity comes again I should very much like to. From lower down the ice-capped clifftops are so pure a white that they reflect blue around the edges — that of the daytime, a lurid azure blue. They make a pigment of the same shade in the village, from clay and the leaves of a local plant, which adorns their walls and pottery. And if you look below, beyond the stretch of the canyon, you can see the savannahs shimmering like cornsilk, peppered with herds of gazelle. 

The wildlife here is somewhat skittish — and why shouldn’t it be? — but that does not mean it is not present. The most common animals tend to be small, stout and covered in short fur — marsupials with fan-like ears and whip-like tails. They’ll lounge and burrow during the day and rise once the sun falls, staring at you through bushy overhangs or clusters of spinifex with the roundest, wettest eyes before scurrying off. Jewel-toned scorpions and lean, sand-coloured mountain cats lie in wait within the innumerable caverns lining the canyon, and raptors and vultures patrol overhead. Where the rivers burble indolently, crocodiles queue like logs to sunbathe. Adders and iguanas must be abundant too — the meat is a customary ingredient in many local dishes — but I did not come across any myself. And of course, there are the honeybees that are the pride and joy of the Kamizuru — enough of them to be an infestation.

At dinner this evening I sampled one of the local drinks — thickened corn milk submerged with melon balls, then topped with rose petals. I suspect from the malty taste it was laced through with some sort of alcohol — the waitress wouldn’t make eye contact long enough for me to ask her — and I know you haven’t a palate for sweet things but I’ve seen how you throw back your soy and rice milks, so if perchance you visit Iwa yourself someday I recommend you try it. They make prolific use of roses here — can’t walk into a single establishment without smelling them. There’s a bush flowering beneath every other windowsill, and they grow wild as weeds in the mountains, in the most defiant colours, oranges and scarlets so brilliant they put campfire to shame. As of yesterday I’ve found myself in possession of more tubes of rosehip seed oil than I know what to do with; the elderly matron at the guesthouse insists it’ll help with my hair. Well, my hair is perfectly acceptable as it is, and you mentioned you were running low on your amla extract, so I shall be sending these your way. The fragrance will suit you. 

> _Stop talking around the point — that’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it? Then I shall. My friend, that fateful day on the rocky plains that span the acres between our forests and your alps, with the sanguine sun as our recordkeeper, you said you would trust my clan if I showed you my innards. I don’t think I ever got to see yours. I don’t need to — your words are the greatest gift to me. So I ask you — are those words still true? Do you still trust my clan with yours? Will you trust my clan with yours when I am gone?_

Hashirama, how am I to say _no_ when you entreat me like this? I offer you a question of my own: What weight do a clan leader's words carry? If it is his duty to represent the interests of his clan, how much can be left up to his own discretion? Perhaps it was a mistake for me to think I could make the call. If so, it should not matter to you whether those words remain true.

If not, or if you are asking me in some other capacity, then I can only answer at length. I have entertained the notion of such an answer many times before — I used to wonder if you weren't asking about my anxieties because you already knew, or because you thought that I was paranoid by nature and put up with it as one of those bizarre Uchiha quirks. I would imagine the conversation in my head, all the violently alternative ways it could go if you ever broke the question, if my clan or I tried your patience once too often. Then you stopped turning to me for first advice, and I understood you would never think to find out.

> _Forgive me — this is hardly something you can answer in person, barefaced as it is; much less on parchment. But I must ask it through writing — I do not have the courage to pursue the matter in person either. Surely it would distort the careful trails we've picked around each other. With loose footing we cannot afford an earthquake or a mudslide. Things will be better between us this way._

But now you come to me with your obsequious humility, now like a coward riding on parchment, when I am so far from you that I cannot meet you with the fury this warrants. You are in luck I have opted to answer tonight. Tonight I overflow with so much abandon it almost feels serene. 

The long answer, then. For that you will need to know a few things about us Uchiha.

You have been at war with us Uchiha for a lifetime, but what do you truly know about us? You know that we are an ancient and powerful people. That our bloodline runs deep, taps straight into the heart of shinobi history. You know that we are a savage and ruthless clan, that the ways we slaughter our enemies could suck the spleen out of a man, that we rule over our spoils with an iron fist. None of this is unique to us.

You know that we wield the Sharingan, and you think you know what this means. You know that our pride soars as high as our fires rage, and that we strike with the decisive swiftness of lightning — so you are careful not to slight us, even though slighting us comes naturally to you. You know that we love more ardently and more boundlessly than any other people — this is a myth, by the way. We love no more or less than anyone else, but we do not cower from the monstrosity of love, and that makes our love monstrous to you. Love could look just the same on your father, your brother — even on you. 

Here are some things you don’t know. You don’t know that the unyielding lines of our backs have only ossified that way after aeons of bending to gale winds — bending so far that our backs would snap anyway. We came to the mountain springs from the wetlands, and to the wetlands from the brimstone lakes of the far north. This Land of Fire has been our country for just as long as it has been yours, but we were being expunged from every miserable corner of it for centuries before this war began. 

Some say that there is a curse upon the Uchiha, that we are born of hatred and die in hatred. Yes — this is our curse. We are cursed with eyes that look demonic to you, with chakra that feels odious to you. We are cursed to be the envy of all and beloved of none. My people bent and bent and bent out of hope for the future and love for the country. My ancestors deferred and compromised and turned their faces away from their children in shame, and when the indignity became too much to bear they moved, from the brimstone lakes to the wetlands to the mountain springs — all because they were convinced their sacrifice would thwart fate. Why do you think no Mangekyo has marched before me? Do you really think I am the first to have awakened these eyes?

We are cursed with the burden of all of your fears, and it was only a matter of time before we had to strike back. Thus, the beginnings of a feud. Then the nobles and the landlords came to rake in their profits, and a feud became a war. You and I — Senju and Uchiha — have banded together through the shared trauma of this war. How much of it did we share? 

Did you cremate your fallen brethren so your enemies would not pluck the eyes from their corpses? Did the same enemies whisper about how your brethren hunted each other for those eyes?

Did you come scavenging the battlefield for the necessities of life, for the instruments of combat? Did you do it because the merchants refused to do business with you? 

Did the marketplace turn you away from the season’s harvest, even when you offered double the price? Did they say it was because you could live off of the hearts you'd eat from those you’d slain? 

Did you raid and pillage to survive, then? Did the villagers call you hoarders and bandits for it? 

Did your employers spit at you because they’d heard you were the spawn of hell? Did they claim there was no blood under your skin, only fire, and did they pay their priests to debase you? 

Did your vanquished foes name you victors or tyrants? What of the friends of your foes? Did you amass allies or adversaries?

Name the ratio of how much we’ve shared and it will be the ratio of how much I should trust your clan with mine. 

This is not something an Uchiha and a Senju can pour each other drinks over. No amount of gut-spilling can make a Senju understand what it means, and has meant, to be an Uchiha in the Land of Fire.

You draw some bold connections between your sympathy for the refugees and the question of my clan. In this village of ours, what is the ratio of an Uchiha's humanity to a Senju's, do you think?

> _I do not expect you to respond, though I would welcome it. As I sit at my desk tonight drawing up blueprints for a new housing complex — and I have the warmth of a fireplace and woolen cushions and a shawl, and they have rags and moth-eaten bedding and the frosted hardwood planks of a training hall — I think of their haunted eyes, so lightless you could mistake them for the Hyuga, and the way they cannot hide the proud tilt of their chins even as they submit themselves to our mercy, and I am reminded of those who surrendered during the war, and — I feel as though nothing matters more than that you know this. I am seized by the urgency of it; it cannot wait until your return — it would lose its momentum by then, or I would discard it as a negligible bout of anxiety, or the right moment would never find us — I need you to know now: I think of this._

But I am not being fair to you. You are trying so hard. You are trying harder than anyone else, with resilience that will be the stuff of legends. Is it cruel of me to pass judgment on your efforts when I expect it all to end in nought? Would it be more merciful to say _no_ and simply move on? I am not very good at mercy. There is something to the idea, rather, of standing faithfully by your right arm and seeing you try, even if failure is imminent. I could spare you some of your burden. I could be your eyes when you sleep and your limbs when you tire, your sword and your gauntlet, your wings and your steed. I could watch with you as fate digs our graves and everything topples around us, knowing that you tried for us. And we can dream all through it that there is some escape route yet, and if we dream hard enough —. There is something lovely about that.

So much conjecture about what I would think or say! Here is what I would _really_ say if I were with you:

Instruct your aide to stack extra wood in the log holder, to get you through longer nights;

I know you don’t like wearing haori under your shawls in the daytime, but the cold will only bite harder as the snow comes, so keep a hanten at the office;

Sit with good posture when you do your paperwork. Your chair is upholstered and you have no excuse to slouch;

Take care.

Your feelings have reached me. Thank you for telling me you think of this. 

> _Are you surprised to hear from me?_

(Yes. I had resigned myself to the possibility that all our affections had finally dried up, and this ominous interlude was only the drought that would usher the bushfires. But here you’ve set about excavating, coaxing groundwater out of our distance. I feel as though I am drinking sunshine. Thank you for surprising me.) 

* * *

**iv. guest wing, kamizuru mansion. hour of the monkey.**

You have some nerve, sending me your tripe while I am away steering this sham of a consultation with the Earth bureaucrats. _As you will have yet to reach Iwa, I won’t pester you with questions on the objective. Instead I hope you will humour me in my moment of weakness._ Ah, yes; and while I’m at it I'm saddled with cosseting you, too. It must be so hard for you, being plagued by abstract misgivings as you sign away your pristine white parchments at your bolted mahogany desk. Haven’t you the council members and advisors for this? What of your brother? When was I demoted to Lord Receptacle For The Hokage’s Woes? _Yes, I know — it was I who insisted this is no time for weakness. Take this as your victory: even now with everyone on the same page there are some things — the heaviest of things — that I can confide only to you, and I sorely miss it when you are away._ Hypocrite. Do you take me for an old dog, throwing me a hollow bone in return for pity? Who was it that drove me away in the first place? _It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? Though the two of us may be miles apart — perhaps, I sometimes fear, tomes apart — this remains a constant._ For you. It remains a constant for you, not for me. But it’s always been about you, hasn’t it? Your dream, your hopes, your wants, and me as the accessory being strung along. 

_I can’t understand how such a people could have been brought to heel like this. Can you imagine — a unified village, a confederation between brothers-in-arms, founded on such terms?_ I can imagine all too well. If it is as they say, then they met their misfortune because they were weak and their masters were strong, and that is all there is to it. _I don’t know what to believe._ Is it that you don’t know what to believe, or that you choose not to believe what is plain to all? Through war or peace, there has not been a single period in the course of history where power has been completely removed from the picture. Power is paramount in the worldy order — but you don’t want to believe that.

 _I hadn’t even considered the need for it, because I hadn’t thought we had united on such terms as would warrant it._ I’m curious — how much _did_ you consider before you drafted that first armistice? And then that constitution? Did you look at the declining numbers of my clan, wearing themselves haggard at my insistence, and see your own prosperous, swarming flock of Senju, and legislate with flourish, ‘Henceforth, Uchiha and Senju will drink together as equals’? _Is there a need? There shouldn’t be. I want to trust in the spirit of our alliance._ Spirit is a pretty platitude, but what have you done to keep it alive? Who feeds the hearth when you aren’t there to tend to it? What does he feed it with? _But these Kiri folk may have allied with their tormentors trusting in the same spirit, and it has not safeguarded them. Are there people among us who may one day defect under comparable circumstances, and seek refuge elsewhere?_ What, exactly, are you trying to imply? _I am not as naive as you like to think;_ — congratulations _— I know that respite long sought-after dulls the senses. Those who only yield to peace against overwhelming odds are the most shortchanged. Perhaps that is the concession they must make, for entering the fold when they do._ Such pinpoint insights you share! Evidently you have given this profound and undivided attention. Well done, the secrets of the human condition are now in the palm of your hand. 

Is that what you wrote seeking — the village madman’s acknowledgment? Poor thing. There, there: it’s yours for the taking.

 _Stop talking around the point — that’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it?_ Stop presuming you know my mind; it will be your own downfall. _Then I shall. My friend, that fateful day on the rocky plains that span the acres between our forests and your alps, with the sanguine sun as our recordkeeper, —_ Oh, please, spare me the poetic nostalgia _— you said you would trust my clan if I showed you my innards. I don’t think I ever got to see yours —_ You never asked. You never asked to see mine, and I tried to show you still, and you didn't want to look. _I don’t need to — your words are the greatest gift to me._ Don’t. No, actually, do; let’s. Which words of mine were the greatest gift to you? Which words have you treasured that didn’t serve your own interests? Which of them have ever held sway over you? You don’t even come to me for first advice anymore. _— So I ask you — are those words still true? Do you still trust my clan with yours? Will you trust my clan with yours when I am gone?_ Miserable wretch, you don’t understand _anything_ , do you? I can’t give you what you want. It was never my trust to give, and _it is already yours_ . Now _you_ tell _me_ — what have you done to keep it?

 _Now you will accuse me of questioning your allegiance._ No, idiot soothsayer, I will not. I know what the councillors hiss about in the boardroom. I know what malice your brother slides into your ears behind closed doors. My own clansmen’s eyes follow me into bed, pursuing the Uchiha gone rogue, the treacherous contrarian. Why should I accuse only you, and only now? _I swear to you I am not. Whatever others may imply, you are a father to our village in your own right, and your loyalty is not my entitlement_. Hah! Lies! I am no father — I could not even be a brother. You cling to this juvenile domestic fantasy as though it's your birth cord, and nothing I say can convince you otherwise. But try as you might to drop this child into my lap, she came from your belly, and like a poorly transplanted organ she will only kick and scream and beat her fists at my breast. The truth from day one has been that I do not qualify even remotely as a guardian to your village. Still, it is good to know you recognise this: no more do I answer to anyone but myself. _I am asking if you have faith in mine: to our village, to our people, to our dream. Is your faith still mine to keep?_ You’re insatiable. You have the faith of every mother, father and infant under the sun. The council’s treasury brims with the hearts of the villagers, offered up to you in gratitude. Even here in the Land of Earth the shinobi youth sing your praises, and your name invokes wondrous murmuring from the nobility. What worth has my shriveled and petty faith, when you possess all that? 

I know your love, and I know it won’t be enough. I cannot give you a lie.

 _I do not expect you to respond, though I would welcome it._ I _should_ not respond, since you’ve saved me the trouble and made that prediction yourself. And yet I can’t seem to stop writing these blasted things. I must be insane; you make me insane—. _As I sit at my desk tonight drawing up blueprints for a new housing complex — and I have the warmth of a fireplace and woolen cushions and a shawl, and they have rags and moth-eaten bedding and the frosted hardwood planks of a training hall —_ You and your bleeding heart. You parade it around indiscriminately, uncaring of the repercussions. Do you have any idea what it does to a man to be on the receiving end of that? Do you know how patronising it seems, how it makes him want to pierce your hand through his with a kunai and hurl the both of you off of a cliff? A night or two spent in the cold is nothing for any shinobi worth his salt. If indeed these Kiri-nin can be trusted — and I have half a mind to shatter your wrists for languishing over their plight without verifying anything; how cheap do you think my time is? — then they will accept the wary treatment with grace. And if, indeed, their situation makes you so despondent, then I must ask why you didn’t oversee the interim arrangements yourself. We are not so impoverished as to be incapable of respectably hosting a party of two dozen with the facilities already available to us. _I think of their haunted eyes, so lightless you could mistake them for the Hyuga, and the way they cannot hide the proud tilt of their chins even as they submit themselves to our mercy, and I am reminded of those who surrendered during the war, and —_ How dare you. How _dare_ you. Who do you think we are? The Uchiha have birthed the proudest shinobi on the continent. You may be inclined to bet on conspiracy from them, but now that they are in your village they will not _defect_ like sniveling rats, and they will absolutely not _submit_ to some outsider's mercy. They will fight with their faces bared and their flags thrashing until their last breaths. Take your sanctimonious compassion elsewhere; they have no need of it. _I feel as though nothing matters more than that you know this. I am seized by the urgency of it; it cannot wait until your return — it would lose its momentum by then, or I would discard it as a negligible bout of anxiety, or the right moment would never find us — I need you to know now: I think of this._

I must not have battered you thoroughly enough during our last match, if you think it is such a trifling matter to mock me like this.

 _I know how imprudent it is to unleash these musings on you when you are already stretched so thin, and I hate to add to your strife._ Will wonders never cease! It appears you've acquired yourself some self-awareness, after all. _But I need you to know, so I set brush to parchment._ Why? What did you hope to accomplish by telling me this? What difference did you think it would make to the trundling wheel of destiny?

What do you want me to do?

 _I will be shameless again, and remind you to take care of your health._ Shameless? No, that is quite characteristic of you, to feign concern while plunging the knife into my side. I especially like how you relieve yourself of any liability; if I should be compromised after this it would be because _I_ had been too careless, wouldn't it? My health is quite splendid, thank you, and would be more so if it weren't for this damned letter. _I am always looking forward to your speedy and triumphant return from these trips, but not if it will make you reckless._ That is all I'll ever amount to for you, isn't it? A reckless beast that runs on passion and instinct alone, that hasn't a modicum of civility or sophistication in it. Something to be tamed and cajoled and let loose on the vermin. I will be reckless as I like, when I like, and with whom I like.

 _I write in hopes that we can recover in ink what has been lost to us in speech._ You had best give up. I don't care to enable whatever new idle pastime of yours this portends. Recovery holds little appeal for me; I do not long for bygone days. 

This is to be my first and last reply. If you are earnest about anything you have written in the slightest, you will respect that decision and leave matters be.

* * *

**v. library, kamizuru mansion. hour of the rabbit.**

Hashirama — 

> _I pray Kagutsuchi finds you well. Forgive me for taking the liberty of sending her — at the rate at which things are progressing with Kumo and Uzushio, the aviary can spare no birds. Rest assured any remonstrations you may have were thoroughly made known by Kagutsuchi herself. I am continually awed by the fierce loyalty your birds have for you — fierce and exclusive, as the gashes I’ve earned from Kagutsuchi can attest. It's unlike anything I've seen between man and beast. They take after you. Perhaps you can help us get better acquainted with each other when you return._

No remonstrations for sending Kagutsuchi — only my thanks. I confess I found myself rather lonely after crossing the giant mushroom woods skirting the Earth border, as the country beyond is barren and the animals reserved. She has kept me faithful company in the days that have passed since. Sorry to hear about your injuries — the falcons aren’t accustomed to working with outsiders and are, as you’ve noticed, quite territorial. (Although the sheer offensiveness of your depressed mug mustn’t have helped with impressions, either.) I marvel at how you came to win this one's favour at all; it bodes well for your affinity with the others. For the time-being, you may avail yourself of my magpie and turtledove. They are being kept with Hikaku while I travel — ask for Nurarihyon or Yosuzume.

> _If I estimate correctly, you should have crossed into the western border by now. How are you finding the Land of Earth? I have heard tales of the famous rock rain that scatters from the mountaintops down to the prairies south. Did you encounter any of it yourself? What a spectacular phenomenon it must be! I know you haven’t the time for sightseeing, but I hope you will tell me of the things that have caught your attention from those stone peaks._

While I was trekking the perimeter I found the country here to be quite striking, if arid and comparatively desolate. Once the outer fortress of mountains is crossed, the peaks descend into staunch plateaus that give way to labyrinthian canyons — a convenient third line of defence. I did have the privilege of witnessing several flurries of the _infamous_ rock rain on my way up there — the northerly brings stone chips hammering down on any who dare pass, which serves as the first deterrent; even the final trading post east of the border is a day’s travel away. As a souvenir I have stockpiled any of the little pink granite devils that have chanced me. I will be sure to pelt you with them at the office so you can have a taste of this _spectacular phenomenon_. 

The vagaries of the wind are yet another of Earth's natural majesties. Over just the course of a day, it will go from the warm, rolling breezes of the tablelands to whistling, surging rapids between escarpments. You can see the stream of the wind in the stripes that line the cliff-faces, layers and layers of millennia in them. And then, if you make your way to the canyon floor — the slow, motionless heat, as though you are standing in a clay oven. The sunlight spills down the ravines at the crack of noon and submerges them in dust motes and golden space — it’s a religious experience. But hot, scorchingly hot — even at night the rock retains heat, as vermilion as it is during the day, like glowing coal. Sleep is out of the question in that heat, but at least the sky is cloudless and vast, unimpeded by canopy. It is the most vivid shade of indigo at night, so different from the velvety blacks of Konoha, and colonies of stars camp across it like pinholes for a snowstorm. Words don’t do the scenery justice, you should experience it on your own two feet.

> _I can’t understand how such a people could have been brought to heel like this. Can you imagine — a unified village, a confederation between brothers-in-arms, founded on such terms? I don’t know what to believe._

Unfortunately, whether or not the deserters are who they say they are, the state of affairs in Kiri is probably as they claim. Tsukasa-san — from the Kamizuki family, they manage the sushi bar at the southeastern plaza — mentioned on my last visit that supplies from the Land of Water have been dwindling. The administration in Kiri has issued limits on who can conduct business, and any merchants starting out from the assimilated clans are being detained as men of sacrifice. The policy may be disagreeable to you, but it's not without sense. From the perspective of the founding clans, it ensures the stability of the settlement while they are busy consolidating power.

Although shinobi in the other Great Nations have been adopting our system in search of peace, peace itself encompasses a broad spectrum. Not all villages are being founded on principles of goodwill — Iwa, for one, is fanatical about extending the country’s borders. They think they are being discreet with their empty pacifistic gestures, but after some reconnaissance it's become clear their goal is to centralise shinobi forces as a supplement to the imperial army. If peace is to be the absence of discord, then there are many ways to go about achieving it. 

It can’t come as much of a surprise to you either. Surely you’ve come across similar hierarchies in the way clans operate — the enslavement of a branch family by a stem family, or the subordination of kunoichi to their menfolk. If people who share the same blood can coordinate on such terms, what is stopping strangers from doing the same?

> _You will hate to hear it, but I have been advised along similar lines by my brother already._

I _do_ resent the suggestion that we are anything alike, but your brother is (miraculously) right to have warned you, given the delicate position we are in. I would lay out the possible scenarios, but you will feign illiteracy on seeing them, so I can only exhort you to proceed with caution. Be as hospitable as you wish, but act with a clear mind. 

> _If the story is true, I find myself wondering, what does this bode for any future diplomacy with Kiri? Shall we ally ourselves with a village that runs its army on servitude? Stratifying men into degrees of humanity — children who have only ever known the blood of the womb, born as lesser humans! Their blood would be on my hands._

As for Kiri — I suppose that depends on what vision you have for us. If it's guilt by association you are worried about, then you had best cross international cooperation off the agenda altogether. I am not being pessimistic, only rational: You are dissatisfied with Kiri and will be as unimpressed as I am by Iwa. Kiri, in turn, will not be happy to hear you are sheltering their defectors. The reputation Suna is building for itself is not particularly flattering, either. (Remind me to speak to you about that, by the way; the hearsay I've gathered on Suna would chill your bones.) And this is to say nothing of how reconcilable our own customs will be with foreign sensibilities. 

Personally I can think of no recourse. The core values on which these villages are being founded are steeped too strongly in the histories that differentiate us. You must make a choice, sooner or later: stay true to your conscience and face the inevitability of war, or compromise to postpone that outcome — for what it may be argued is the greater good. I know you are prepared to endure for the future, but ultimately, regardless which decision you make, you will not be the only one enduring. You are right — you hold the fates of entire peoples in your hand, each of whom are the aggregate of numerous individual lives.

> _And I find myself wondering, also, in morbid hours as now — what gives these people the confidence to seek aid here? Who is to say they will not meet a similar fate with us, if not within their generation, then that of their children? It occurs to me that we haven’t any clauses on the delegation of labour in our constitution, nor any measures for curbing hegemony._

I question what gives them that confidence myself, which I take as a sign to be on guard with them. But joking aside: people come to seek aid from you because what you are offering is just _better_ than the alternatives. We are still one foot in the trenches of war. People are desperate. They have grown weary of reflecting on past grievances, and their weariness keeps them from examining the future too closely. They are not thinking about the things you are. Nonetheless, if this episode doesn't get buried under more pressing concerns, why not make a note of it in your planner? You can always bring it up at the next council meeting.

> _I do not expect you to respond, though I would welcome it. As I sit at my desk tonight drawing up blueprints for a new housing complex — and I have the warmth of a fireplace and woolen cushions and a shawl, and they have rags and moth-eaten bedding and the frosted hardwood planks of a training hall — I think of their haunted eyes, so lightless you could mistake them for the Hyuga, and the way they cannot hide the proud tilt of their chins even as they submit themselves to our mercy, and I am reminded of those who surrendered during the war, and — I feel as though nothing matters more than that you know this. I am seized by the urgency of it; it cannot wait until your return — it would lose its momentum by then, or I would discard it as a negligible bout of anxiety, or the right moment would never find us — I need you to know now: I think of this._

While I am tempted to laugh at your misery over the Kiri-nin’s sleeping arrangements — such an insignificant matter, yet typical, so typical of you; I can almost hear your heart crying out from here, you incurable oaf — I’m obligated to point out you could simply have had a spare stack of blankets delivered to them. Ah, but you probably already did that the instant you checked in — you’re telling me this because you want to be spoiled, aren’t you? I am the worst person to seek that sort of solace from, yet you vie for it anyway. You haven't changed a single bit. 

You’re thinking yourself into a panic over far-fetched what-ifs. Have negotiations with Kumo or Uzushio struck a bottleneck? I know you have a lot on your plate, but contriving new problems to agonise over is not the way to cope. We are fine. Everything is fine. You tell me to take care of myself, but I should say the same to you. At the very least, allow yourself time to sleep at night; you’ve been skimping blatantly. And should these anxieties persist, there are droves of Uchiha at the compound who would be delighted to reassure you — you are welcome to call on them. 

We are moored just fine, and any crisis or turbulence is imaginary. 

> _There must be dirt clotted between your toes, gravel and bramble pricking your heels. And your hair, goodness, I shudder to think of what it’s accreted into with all the debris on the road._

Oh, yes — I cannot overstate the scouring my soles have been put through since I’ve set foot in this country. I have found pebbles and tumbleweed jammed in the unholiest of places. The solution, I’m told, is to moisturise generously with rosehip seed oil. It’s a local specialty — I’ll have some sent to you for your hair, the fragrance will suit you. Warm baths serve me just as well. Regarding the state of _my_ hair, I must disappoint — I had the forethought to carry a hooded cloak, and it has gotten me through the worst of the dust storms. I can’t say the same about my face, though; this infernal peeling will be the end of me. 

> _I will be shameless again, and remind you to take care of your health. I am always looking forward to your speedy and triumphant return from these trips, but not if it will make you reckless._

It seems losing a few layers of skin has made me less intimidating to these bumptious officials as well. Do you know what one of them said to me yesterday? He pulled me aside after tea with the Earth daimyo’s proxy and offered to treat me to the local hot springs. To help decompress, he said. He was gesturing at his face with his hand, making an insolent circular motion — it’s a testament to my willpower that I didn’t torch him on the spot. So: there is no need to fret that I am acting rashly. 

Be well.

— Yours, Madara.

* * *

**viewing pavilion, kamizuru mansion. hour of the dragon.**

Hashirama — 

My thanks for sending Kagutsuchi. If you find yourself in need of a messenger again, try my magpie or turtledove. They are being kept with Hikaku, ask for Nurarihyon or Yosuzume. I have gathered some relevant hearsay on Suna from fellow travellers, remind me to speak to you about that when I return.

The hilltops here are phenomenally different. The sun strikes iron-rich rock for hours throughout the day, taking it through shades of pink, orange, brown. At sunset the farthest hilltops are gilded so hotly they glare like fire. It feels like standing on another planet, but some things are the same. A mountain is a mountain, and hairy spiders the size of boulders are as present here as there. 

Earth Shinobi from across the country are migrating in swathes to Iwa. The nobles have withdrawn patronage from unaffiliated guilds and are pouring investment into the hidden village. They think they are being discreet, but their main objective is to mobilise a shinobi military that will supplement the daimyo's army on future expeditions.

Affairs in Kiri are probably as the refugees claim; as with Iwa not all villages are being founded on goodwill. A contact informs me the administration has issued limits on who can conduct business. Merchants starting out from the assimilated clans are being detained as men of sacrifice — I believe this may have something to do with that rite you mention. 

Nonetheless, I advise you to take steps to verify the Kiri-nin’s identities on your own. Dose your hospitality with caution and your compassion with vigilance. But do not falter in your resolve: when you hesitate, the citizens take the fall. Consider your priorities, commit to the choice that will secure them, and strike like a spear in that direction. You are the founder and the protector of the village — bolster your own faith before seeking mine. And I _do_ have faith — in your strength, your will of fire, all the reasons why you are where you are and I where I am, I have faith in.

If spirit is not enough for you, and this episode isn’t overwhelmed by more pressing concerns, why not forward a proposal at the next council meeting? More to the point, have negotiations with Kumo or Uzushio struck a bottleneck? If so, contriving new problems to agonise over is not the way to cope. We are fine. Trust in the prosperity of the clan under your guidance was never truly mine to give, but should your anxieties persist, there are droves of Uchiha at the compound who would be delighted to reassure you — feel free to call on them. 

So much conjecture about what I would think or say. Here is some actual counsel: remind your aide to keep the log holder stocked; keep a hanten and some blankets at the office; maintain good posture when you do your paperwork. And if you have enough time in between engagements to fancy us as seafarers, why not spend some of it on sleep? 

It would be ill-advised to divert our focus from the precarious state of international relations, but if it will bring you peace of mind, then of course — we can afford to write. 

Take care.

— Uchiha Madara. 

P. S. I've enclosed a few tubes of rosehip seed oil in the seal below. A local specialty — for your hair; the fragrance will suit you.


End file.
